Sweet Revenge
by Madamoiselle La Lune
Summary: Set after the burning of the Opera Popullaire. Erik contemplates the meaning behind christines words before she left him and tries to shed a light on why she holds so much power over his dark heart. Dark fic. one shot a mix between the musicalmmovie Erik


Madamoiselle La Lune

Disclaimer: Phantom of the opera and it's marvelous array of characters do not belong to me in any way shape or form ( though I wish Erik was mine... I have a thing for guys in masks + capes)

Sweet Revenge

_"It's in your soul, in which the true distortion lies" ._ Her words rang clearly through his head like a bell, the sweet sound of her voice lingering in his ears, torturing him, reminding him constantly of what he had lost. His love for her drove him to extreme heights, he had gone mad with love. He had something he thought he could never find; someone who would see him for another being, someone they could find comfort in being around. Not even his own mother found such comfort in him, she had screamed when he was born, her only gift to him was a rag to cover his hideous disfigured face. All but Christine looked upon him in sheer horror, deathly afraid of the spindly death's body and fiery eyes. Christine had looked past the mask and the horrible disfigured face and saw a man. She didn't see a ghost, or "The Devil's Child", she saw a man, a man with the extraordinary talent of deception. But he was no longer elle-s-ange de music. He was a man, a man which she was deathly afraid of, yet drawn to almost magnetically by his mysterious and secretive appeal.

He looked into a shattered mirror, his features contorting into a scowl at his reflection. He glared at him self for a moment and then let out a throaty growl, thrusting his fist into the already broken mirror. He smirked slightly at his now bloodied hand, it showed that he was in fact, still alive. He stalked through his underground chambers, a marvelous architecture which he had built on his own underneath his opera house. Yes, _his_ opera house. He had been part of the original architectural team when the Opéra Populaîre was being built. He knew all the secrets to the opera, he was the very mastermind behind them. The trap doors and hidden sliding walls where he often lurked were created by him, the secret to the triggering mechanisms residing in his mind only.

He fiddled with the ring he had given to christine, promising his love to her. That fateful night she had kissed him and promised to stay with him forever, but he let her go. He had wanted to take her in his arms and keep her there forever, but something told him otherwise. Though she had said it to him with such feeling, he knew she wasn't happy. How stupid had he been! he shook his head slightly, returning himself to his darkened world from his reverie of things long past. Dwelling on things long gone never did anything good for anyone... but, things weren't long gone, though it seemed like an eternity, Christine had been with him only the night before. He smirked again, his mind was getting ahead of him. Though he teetered on the edge of insanity he still obtained his common sense. Yes, she had been with him only the night before, but he had lost her a long time ago. He had displayed too much trust in her, he took no warning to the silly pretend "engagement" game she and her childhood lover played. She had assured him that it was only a game, and he believed her. He sighed and glared at the ground.

"Erik..." he heard a whispery feminine voice call. His head shot up and he listened. He heard it call him again. He whirred around to the direction of the voice and there was Christine standing there smiling at him.

"Christine!" He almost squealed. "Oh lovely sweet Christine you have returned to me! Oh I knew you would come back," He blinked and his smile faltered... she wasn't there. But she had to be! He saw her with his own two eyes! Didn't he?

Slightly frustrated her turned and began towards his organ, music always calmed his nerves, he got lost in the feel of the smooth ivory keys beneath his fingers and the marvelous sounds that came forth. He stopped in his tracks when he saw christine sitting there waiting for him. He blinked, she was gone. Surely he had gone mad! He glanced around the room and she was always there. Everywhere he looked she was there. He became frantic, she was all around him, teasing him, taunting him in his demise.

"Go away you wretched woman!" he screamed falling onto the ground clutching at his head. "You vile being! can't you leave me alone! You left me! Yet still you torture me!" he cried, crystal tears stinging his face like daggers. Hastily he squeezed his eyes shut trying to make her image disappear, yet still she was there. Still she haunted him. She haunted him in his mind. Then it struck him...

_"Little Lotte let her mind wander, Little lotte thought, am I fonder of goblins or shoes... or dolls and frocks...? Oh but the best Lotte said, was 'when I'm asleep in my bed, the angel of music sings songs in my head'"_ She was his angel of music... She would never leave him... He was her angel of music, and now she is returning the favor. She is taking her revenge, leaving him with false hopes like he had done to her and like the world had done to him. It was a never ending viscous cycle that never ends. Revenge. Sweet sweet revenge. It's sickening sweetness pierced the air like the trill of a violin. He laughed. How sweet it was indeed.


End file.
